


What is This Feeling?

by NidoranDuran



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Black Romance, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, POV First Person, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NidoranDuran/pseuds/NidoranDuran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose finds herself feeling things for Vriska that she really shouldn't be, but more concerning than her capacity for blackrom is how to keep those feelings away from her matesprit, Kanaya. As much a fanfic as it is an experiment in seeing how many Wicked references one can make while still actually being considered "a story".</p>
            </blockquote>





	What is This Feeling?

I know what love feels like. Discovering it firsthand was both my proudest and lowest moment; on one hand picking me up and whisking me away into something unexpected and incredible with an amazing girl, but on the other hand teaching me that I'm not as above it all as I'd like to believe. It doesn't bother me too much anymore, because Kanaya fits so perfectly into my life and brings me endless amounts of joy, and I try to see it as me maturing and moving past some of my older tendencies toward thinking myself somehow 'better'. It's a nebulous better anyway, one that I've sought to outgrow the same way “others girls” have stopped bothering me as a concept I need to isolate myself from. Granted, that's still me putting on airs of maturity and trying to act “older”, but at least I'm accepting my faults now, and that's progress.

Love is the little tingle I get every time I look over toward Kanaya and see her smiling about something likely unrelated to me. It's the mental tug toward her, how warm she feels and how she just feels intangibly right when she's in my arms. A complex array of emotions I can't even begin to fully process because I'm too busy enjoying her presence. It's something no book ever truly prepared me for, but which I throw myself recklessly into because I know somewhere deep down inside of me, as irrational as it is, that to do so is safe. I'm a stupid, doe-eyed teenager in love with an alien and I can tell myself that as many times as I want without logic managing to temper anything I feel.

It leaves me secure in the knowledge of what love is, and how to identify such emotions. Which only makes it more frustrating as I look across the room to Vriska from the top of my book, to where she's talking to Feferi about something--I'm not paying enough attention to care about that--with unbroken fixation. I think she's said maybe three words to me since she came into the room, either out of respect for me being nose-deep in a book, or out of pure apathy. I'd err on the latter personally, but that doesn't change the fact my eyes won't leave her, something pulling me toward her with powerful enough magnetism to pry me from the engrossing story I was perfectly content with surrendering an entire day of my life to the enjoyment of. But it's on her.

I want her to shut up, but it's wrong in so many ways. I don't want her to shut up like I want Eridan to shut up where he is just so emphatically wrong about everything he has to say about magic, how the natural cadence of his voice is like nails on a chalkboard in ways I'm fortunate no other troll seems to be. Vriska isn't speaking loud enough to bother me or talking about something that I can't focus amid--I'm not sure what the conversation is even about, and Feferi may as well not be there for how much she's figuring into my focus. It's all Vriska, and the strange urge bubbling inside of me to find a way to make her stop.

Suddenly, I want to be better than Vriska. I want to find some way to show her up in every possible area. I want to embody our shared aspect of light more than she does, to beat her at all her games, to drive her mad with the thought of how much better than her I am at everything we share. Fervid as a flame, something wells up inside of me I can't control, urges to show her up that pull me far from the fictional word I was quite easily falling in love with, to fall into something else entirely, infuriatingly implacable. My fingers tighten against the hard covers of the book, my breath growing a little heavier, my pulse heavy enough I can feel the throbbing down in the tips of my hard-gripping fingers.

What is this feeling?

Memories return to me of when I fell for Kanaya, unable to pry my eyes away as she spoke to me at length about how much she enjoyed reading my guide to Sburb. That same magnetism was there, that very same certainty the second my eyes fell upon her. My cheeks burned, my chest tightened, and certainty of something washed over me. I didn't know then what it was just the way I don't know now what this is, but I was committed to it, swept up in a whirlwind beyond control or comprehension. It was exciting and dangerous, and somehow completely undercut the thrill of meeting an alien species and learning more about the plight of our game. Although in retrospect, there was no better or more thorough “education” I could have received about trolls than exploring my affections for Kanaya, something the troll reciprocates just as hard, just as intense, to my great relief.

But nothing was ever going to prepare me for the explanation of quadrants and how it's almost miraculous that trolls have something analogous enough to human relationships for us to even work together. The bizarre arrangement of romance that trolls have, four different forms all completely interwoven in something that at the time seemed so completely beyond me conceptually. There's an entire social construct as vital to the perpetuation of the species as what humans know to be “love” centered around some grotesque intermingling of love and hate into a bitter romantic rivalry that--

Fuck.

Everything come clearly into view, and I nearly lose my grip on the book as my eyes close, opening again to look directly at Vriska with clear mind and vision. This time I understand everything perfectly, this new feeling inside of me finally centering, but I don't know now that I finally understand if I want to continue understand it, because what it is and what it means is more than I can possibly be ready to face.

Loathing. Unadulterated loathing.

My brain's sardonic way of putting it together makes me smile. Or it would, if I weren't already smiling, even if the wide, toothy grin my book hides isn't quite the same sort of smile. I'm so glad my inner monologue is thinking in references to musicals, as if I need the extra layer of suffering on top. One I can roll my eyes on and slip into disaffection toward. A nice, cushy barrier between myself and reality that sounds better the more I think about it. There's a lot I can accept about romancing an alien--especially one vampiric enough for me to pretend the xenobiological weirdness is made okay by the fact it's all of my trashy teen romance novels come to life--hatemancing an alien is well past what I'm willing to accept. This isn't even something humans are supposed to be able to feel! If fervid denial of reality and putting up barriers between it and myself is the only way to go, then life is a cabaret, old chum.

But the tricks never work when you're telling yourself to do them.

I know I need to get out, but my feet won't work. Every instinct is telling me to leave and bury myself somewhere far away from people, but instead I'm remaining fixated on Vriska, some dark tempting part of my mind telling me I should start flirting with her. How does one even flirt in pitch romance? Do I insult her glasses? At least “love” is something I've been prepared for by just about every piece of media directed at me from the age where I could sit in a “big girl chair” onward. Which is all sorts of messed up now that I think about it, and in any other condition I would focus intensely on the expectations media puts on girls to find a good man and marry, but I have other things that may not be better than rejecting heterosexuality and the social structures of a world reduced to ash light years away from where I am, but which are certainly more pressing.

Vriska: What a8out you, Lalonde?”

I'm so caught up in staring at Vriska that I don't even notice she's turned her head toward me until she's said my last name, which makes my chest tighten in all the embarrassing and mushy ways I was lucky enough to avoid with Kanaya. Young love--or hate, I suppose--and its terrible, terrible effects.

I pretend to have been intently focusing on my book rather than on the way the asymmetry of Vriska's horns suddenly bothers me. Looking up, I feign being startled, my head snapping back with the appropriate level of surprise as I loose a monosyllabic, confused noise, like someone so focused on a book and only the mention of their name, something anyone is conditioned to pick up on even in the white noise of the background, pulling them from their reverie.

Rose: Oh, sorry, I was reading; I only caught my name at the end. Did you ask me something?

Before putting the book down, I make sure my face is on straight. I'm not the best liar in person; too much time with books and not enough with people who aren't my mother or cats has kept me from developing the necessary life skill to say something I don't mean without wrapping it in enough deadpan, sardonic absurdity to have it written off regardless. But then, even a while around humans hasn't given most trolls a complete grasp on our little quirks and the subtler aspects of our reactions. In fact, I'm the only human around who even fully gets humans. It's a dangerous power.

Vriska: Well, nevermind. I should have figured you'd 8e too 8usy with your nose 8uried in that stupid 8ook.  
Rose: Excuse me?  
Feferi: )(ey come on, let's not fig)(t.  
Rose: No, I think I want to fight.

I'm not entirely sure where this is coming from, but Vriska's contempt has me fired up. The pounding in my chest grows more intense, my eyes focus in furiously on her with renewed hatred, and I grip my book so tight that my knuckles go white. She probably doesn't even realize it, so rampantly disrespectful and crass toward just about everyone on the giant rock hurtling through space we've been resigned to calling “home”, but she's awoken something furious in me, and I've never been so happy to let loose before in my life.

Vriska: Oh? You want to fight me now? Are you sure a8out that, Lalonde? 8ecause I can pro8a8ly take you down in a8out three seconds; you don't look like you've 8een in many fights.  
Rose: As if I'd have any interest in physical contact with you. Thanks, but I'm fine not smelling like musty cobwebs and bitterness.

I look back into my book apathetically, and the fact it's still over my face is so helpful in hiding the horrifying mix of a grin and a snarl across my lips, letting me keep the air of disaffection as I pretend to be back into my book once more, even if Vriska is on my mind more than ever. It's all confirmation of my feelings, something I should be more frightened of than I am for all the bizarreness inherent in feeling something so decidedly troll-like, something that poring through so many psychology textbooks has never given me the inkling of a human equivalent for. But there it is, burning inside of my chest, a sweltering and pounding flame rising higher with each word. My eyes scan across the page in feigned interest in whatever half-baked romance novel I've stumbled into this time; wizardy romance with dissatisfying worldbuild and a horrible disregard even for the rules it establishes on how magic functions. Incredibly boring, and woefully unworthy of my time.

Vriska doesn't have the luxury of something to hide her expression, and clearly I've struck a nerve, because she's livid and to her feet in seconds, only a stretch of floor and a table standing between us. Feferi is out of her chair almost as fast, already trying to defuse the situation and keep us from getting into anything heavy, but not in the same cooler-headed way I've seen Kanaya do it time and again. She's keeping bubbly and diplomatic, trying to shrug it off with a little bit of happines. I'd tell her she'll make a good empress one day if her kingdom weren't in the same ruined state as my childhood home.

Feferi: W)(y don't we ask Rose about w)(at we were actually talking about? W)(hat do you think of setting up a rotation to figure out w)(o does the dis)(es? -Everyone argues so muc)( about it t)(e way we )(ave it now!  
Rose: That sounds like a wonderful way to resolve the usual arguments that everybody gets into about dishes, Feferi. You're really good at figuring out how to solve problems.  
Vriska: What makes you think I didn't come up with the idea?  
Rose: The fact that it's a good idea.  
Vriska: What's your pro8lem, Lalonde? I try to include you in our convers8tion and now you're acting like a total 8itch.  
Rose: You're right, it was so generous of you to ask me my opinion, and then immediately discard it because I wasn't listening to the sound of your voice going on and on. It's a pity nobody else likes to hear you talk as much as you do, I know, but it's a reality you're going to have to accept.  
Feferi: Vriska was just being considerate! In )(er own way.

Her voice trails off a little in uncertainty, but the fuchsia-blood may as well not be present, registering only in the most basic sense as I remain staring angrily at Vriska from over my book, her eyes back on me and feeding the fire with plenty of oil-dripping kindling. It's an almost addictive thrill that leaves me wanting to rise to my feet too, to jump over the table toward her, and I don't know whether it's just to punch her stupid face or to start making out with her on the floor but oh my god do both of those possibilities sound amazing to me right now.

It's so pure, so strong.

I scoff at Feferi's remark and am completely ready for the angry noise Vriska chokes on. It fills me with life. I have her at every corner, outpacing the wannabe manipulator and talking her down with words in a way I could only ever dream of doing to somebody. I never thought insulting somebody could feel so good, but I'm quickly becoming addicted to this new thrill, and there seems to end in sight to my need for it.

But I've pushed her too far, and as she closes the distance I'm unable to keep from flinching and moving back, her hand faster than my entire body and grabbing the book, pulling it out of my grip and nearly taking me with it. Thankfully, my smile is now masterfully buried beneath a look of pure terror, and I am ready to accept the award for my incredible acting in fooling Vriska to thinking I am neither enjoying this nor at all effected by what's happening. Thankfully, she stops at taking the book, examining it with mocking laughter that should probably be grating, but which makes my chest tighten the same way Kanaya giving sleepy kisses to my ear as she snuggles up behind me does.

Vriska: Why would you even deny this is trash? Look at what the 8ack says: "Kayte is a very ordinary girl with a very special talent; she can cast spells without using a wand!"

The sarcasm in her voice is intense, dripping and darkly mocking in a way that is making me hot all over, like sweet whispers of lurid fantasies. My expression is angry as it stares fiercely up at her because it has to be; what I'm really feeling is far, far too embarrassing to let it show, because I'm seeing spades and I have absolutely zero idea what to do about any of this.

Vriska: "She doesn't think the 8oy of her dreams, 8lake, will ever notice her, 8ut everything in her life is about to change when the new headmaster and his wicked daughter arrive at the Merlin Academy, including her love life!" How old are you? You spend so much time reading and acting like you're so mature and classy, 8ut it's all gar8age, and just 8ecause it's human gar8age doesn't mean you're fooling anybody.

She tosses the book back to me too hard, and instead of being anywhere near my raised hands it nicks me in the shoulder, making he hiss from the surprise more than the pain. Her grin is fang-bearing and irresistible, whether to slap or to press into my neck is completely beyond me, but I still can't look away from it. I try to speak, but my breath is heavy and ragged, and I know the second I open my mouth nothing is going to come out that I'll be proud of when it's all over. But she's leaning forward and coming in close toward me before I can even formulate something sarcastic to say, because she's completely right; my soft spot for certain genres drags the bar really low, and I am reading absolute swill. It's not my fault my planet's pop culture has come to a dead stop in recent years and the grandest expression of human creativity has become Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff like this is some kind of horrific cyberpunk dystopia.

Vriska: The dish rotation was my idea, and may8e you should have some good ideas of your own 8efore you go insulting me on principle. So far you haven't done much to contri8ute to making this shitty situation any better.

She's up close, leaning over the table, her face only inches from mine, and my breathing is so intense, so ragged. I'm paralyzed by fear and surprise and the worry that she's going to kiss me, or worse; that I'm going to kiss her. What little part of me is still trying to be perceptive and not lose itself to hate-fuelled passion is telling me that her breathing is just as bad, that she's worked up too, and some other, terrible part of me is excited at the prospect that she's looking at me just as pitchly, that I've struck some kind of predatorial nerve and she now sees me as a potential rival as well. Oh, how a girl can dream.

Rose: No, but I haven't done much to make it any worse, have I? Just sitting here, being by myself and sticking to the people I can stand to be around for more than a few seconds. Unlike you, who strike unprovoked and then flail around incompetently, like a really pathetic shark who keeps missing the mark and then flopping around on the deck gasping for water again. You didn't want to know what I thought about dishes rotation, you just wanted an excuse to cut me down, and now here you are, outsmarted by a girl who just wanted to read her trashy romance novel in peace and quiet. Tell me; if I'm immature for reading a crappy book about two wizard teenagers, then what does that say about you getting outsmarted by me and put down at every turn?

Feferi has now positioned herself immediately behind Vriska, hands at the ready to pull her off of me the seconds she snaps forward, and given the way she's baring her teeth and trying to making herself look as large and intimidating as possible, I think she's expecting her to pounce on me. But she doesn't. Instead, Vriska runs a hand through her unkempt hair and scoffs, pulling away from me entirely and leaving me kind of wishing she'd done the opposite.

Vriska: Good jo8, you caught me on an off day. Fine, I'll let you keep reading your 8oring wizard 8ook, but next time, I'm going to get you, and it's going to 8e in front of everybody.

She storms off, with Feferi left staring beleaguered, shooting an almost apologetic look toward me before following after Vriska. She seems uncertain what just happened, like she expected it to come to blows or for literally any result other than Vriska to admit defeat in all of her stubborn, prideful horribleness. But it emboldens me; from what I do no know about pitch romance, such blatant physical violence isn't acceptable, and for her to pull away like that sends a message I would love to hear more of. I call after her with one last insult, one I can't possibly keep sitting on, lest it tear a hole in me for going unsaid.

Rose: That would require more than six people to stand being around you!

The added insult of my chosen number, which with her present would add only to seven, fuels her frustration even more, and I can hear her punching the wall outside and groaning as she tries not to come back in and pick a bigger fight with me. I got her good, right where it hurt, and I could settle back in the couch proudly, left alone in the room to finally read, but there was no way my focus could remain on the book. No, not after all of this, the intense emotions and realizations far too much for me to handle or ignore.

I was in hatelove.


End file.
